


Circles of Heaven and Hell

by Meri



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, Yuletide 2003, pre-HBP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-25
Updated: 2003-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:44:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meri/pseuds/Meri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alone on Christmas Eve, Blaise finds solace he wasn't looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circles of Heaven and Hell

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I acknowledge that I'm using, without permission, the characters and the world created by J K Rowling. I do this out of love for the characters and the world and I swear I am not making any kind of profit from my writing.
> 
>  **Note 1:** This story was written for the: While We Tell of Yuletide Treasure Secret Santa project 2003
> 
>  **Note 2:** Thanks so much to my excellent betas: Tiranog, Lanning Cook, and JustACat
> 
>  **Note 3:** This was written before JKR gave us a description of Blaise Zabini

With his head resting on his hand, Blaise Zabini watched the spelled candles flickering on the huge Yule tree in the Great Hall. It was late and cold in the hall, but he couldn't sleep. The gloom and quiet of his rooms were too much for him tonight. Not that he ever really enjoyed the solitude, but over time he'd grown used to it.

Although teaching charms had never been amongst his life's ambitions, to his utter surprise he enjoyed the children, their antics, and even the disasters they managed to come up with. It wasn't why he'd come back to Hogwarts, however.

A noise at one end of the hall startled him and he looked up, peering into the darkness. He could just make out a shadow moving along the wall. A sliver of fear shot through him, and he reflexively reached for his wand. Before his fingers found the polished wood, he was laughing at himself for his overreaction. Too many years as an Auror-his reflexes were still sharp. "Who's there?" he called into the gloom of the darkened room.

"Professor Snape." The shadow solidified into Snape, dressed in full robes. Even at 1:30 on Christmas morning, he was impressive.

Zabini had never thought of Snape as particularly handsome, not in a classic sense, anyway. He was too thin, his hair too lank, his nose too big, and his skin too sallow to be considered close to comely. Weighted against his looks, though, was his upright bearing, his scathing wit, and his uncompromising intelligence: Severus Snape was the most compelling man Zabini had ever known.

"Mr. Zabini. What are you doing up at this hour?" Snape's normal acerbic tone was softened, probably due to the lateness of the hour.

"I could ask you the same thing, Professor." At the start of the term, Zabini had been reluctant to call any of his former professors by anything other their titles unless specifically given leave. Most had done so, as a matter of course. Everyone in fact, except the one professor with whom he most wanted to be on friendlier terms. "It's late, sir."

"I'm aware of the hour, Mr. Zabini." Snape glared at him. "Do I need to ask you a second time why you are here?"

That tone, that perfectly commanding teacher tone, sent a shiver down Zabini's spine. It had scared the life out of him when he'd been a student. Now it was like touching a live wire. He shook his head. "I couldn't sleep."

"So you're lurking in the halls and making sure no one else sleeps, either." Snape's sneer was not as harsh as it had once been. Indeed, there seemed to be a note of amusement in it. "Perhaps you should try some hot milk."

"Perhaps I should." Zabini smiled at him. "However, I thought a few minutes of enjoying the lights on the tree might help relax me." Carefully schooling his expression so as not to reveal his eagerness, he gestured to the bench. "Why don't you join me, since you're up, too?"

Snape's expression showed his surprise at the request, but his eyes betrayed something else all together. "Why should I?" he asked after a pause.

"Why not? I'm not going to bite you." Though he'd like to, right along Snape's jaw, then down onto his neck. With a shiver, Zabini shook his head to clear it. He had to stop thinking things like that. Oh yes, he thought to himself, as if he could just turn it off, after years of fantasies. Not bloody likely. "Sit," he ordered in a tone that his students jumped to obey.

The response from Snape was slower, but he did sit down next to Zabini on the bench. "Perhaps, for a moment. I should resume my rounds shortly."

Something about Snape's melancholy expression bothered Zabini. "There are only six students in all four houses here now. Surely they are in bed."

"They are not always in bed when they should be. I think you know that quite well, Mr. Zabini." Snape's look plainly said he remembered every time he'd caught Zabini and his friends out of bed after curfew.

He wasn't going to blush, Zabini promised himself. Nor was he going to let Snape make him squirm like a child. Grinning instead, he inclined his head in acknowledgment of the shared memory. "Be that as it may, sir. Why not let it go for tonight? It's Christmas Eve."

Snape nodded, his dark eyes showing a glimmer of respect for the first time. "Christmas morning, actually." With a sigh that sounded at least partly like resignation, Snape glanced at him. "As you please, then."

What he pleased to do and what he'd get, Zabini knew, were two entirely different things. He'd given up hoping for more than a peaceful coexistence

For several long moments they watched the tree, until the comfortable silence became something else. Zabini felt he had to say something, anything, to break the stillness that had settled around them like the overly-sweet scent of the perfumed candles from the tree.

"The decorations are beautiful, aren't they?" Zabini said, feeling foolish for pointing out the obvious. He glanced towards the tree, pushing his over-long golden-brown hair back off his face.

A half-smile, nearly but not quite nostalgic, drifted across Snape's face. "There are some from each house, and each year."

"I remember." Every year that he'd been at Hogwarts, he'd worked on the decorations for the tree.

"You were the only seventh year to contribute from Slytherin that year."

By his last year, it had become passeé to make decorations for the Yule tree, but he'd done it anyway. He'd done a lot of things in his seventh year that weren't considered acceptable by many of his fellow students. "I was making a statement, sir."

"So you did. In many ways." Snape did not sound at all disdainful. As a matter of fact, there seemed to be a less grudging note of respect in his tone.

"Yes, sir." Pleased, Zabini glanced at Snape, and saw he'd gone back to contemplating the tree.

After a moment or two, the atmosphere changed subtly; the silence from Snape seemed edgier. He didn't want to overstep his bounds, but he asked anyway. "Is something wrong, sir?"

"No." Snape's inflection was flat, unemotional.

Hiding something, Zabini thought. He could understand that as well. "God, I hate this time of year."

"So do I, Mr. Zabini. So do I." Snape glanced down at his hands, his tone betraying him quite thoroughly. A faint red stain appeared on his cheeks, and he looked aghast at what he'd just said.

Surprised by the lapse, Zabini breathed out, curious beyond measure. "Everything changed at Yule, didn't it, sir?"

"Yes." Without looking up, Snape nodded. "It was a very difficult year, for everyone. That year."

That year. God, Zabini thought, they all still referred to it as That Year.

"An understatement, if ever I've heard one, sir." Zabini still remembered it like yesterday, even ten years later. "I couldn't go home that year. I'd chosen the wrong side. Worse, I had joined Potter's Marauders."

To help in the fight against Voldemort, Harry Potter had put together a crew of his closest friends and allies in all the houses. They had named themselves Potter's Marauders after Harry's father's gang at school. Potter had allowed it, he said, to make amends for his father's escapades, not to honor them. No one from Slytherin had been expected to join, but Zabini had broken with his parents and most of the rest of his house by then. In a fit of utter defiance, he'd joined.

"It wasn't the wrong side, Mr. Zabini." Snape sounded so sure, so righteous, but his eyes still held infinite sadness. "It was the side of light."

"In choosing the light, I betrayed my family." He'd never been able to completely reconcile what he'd chosen with what had been expected of him. By the end, both his parents and his older sister were dead in Voldemort's service and he was alienated from the rest of his family. "I know I could not go against my conscience, but I --"

"There is no point in second guessing yourself now." Snape's voice was firm, and he was finally looking at Zabini. "You made your choices. Hard choices. Now you must live with them as best you can, just like the rest of us. For what it is worth, I think you did the right thing."

Some small part of him swelled with pride, but the rest felt compelled to explain how wrong Snape was. "Sir, you don't--"

"No." Snape held up his narrow, stained hand. "Do not do this. I do, in fact, understand better than you could know."

"What, sir?" He hated the needy sound in his voice, hated that he wanted reassurance after all this time. "How?"

Focusing on him, Snape's gaze was as intense as it was silent. "I made the same choices. Twice in fact, because I chose wrongly the first time."

"You betrayed your family by choosing Voldemort?" Even years after his death, it was surprising how hard that name was to say.

Snape nodded. "My father was a bastard. Between my hatred for him and my hatred..." He stopped, looking away and clearing his throat. "And other factors, I chose incorrectly to follow the dark lord."

"But you chose the light in the end," Zabini said, compelled to offer what solace he could. Living with the choices Snape had made could not have been an easy task, even now, years of repentance later. "That makes up for a lot."

"It does not make the wrong choices any less wrong." Snape sighed, his eyes on his hands. "Do you know anything about Muggle literature?"

For a second, Zabini's mind couldn't follow the non- sequitur. "Yes, sir."

"The lowest, coldest circle of hell is for those that betray their master or country." Snape's voice was harsh, filled with self-loathing.

Zabini could understand that. He answered in the same tone, "Or their family, sir."

"Were I to subscribe to such Muggle nonsense, which I assure you, I do not, I would be doubly damned." As he turned to look at Zabini, the pain in his eyes told a different story.

"We could both claim mitigating circumstances." Zabini knew he didn't believe that and he would bet that Snape didn't either. "What I did was--"

"The right thing." His tone was so resolute, so sure that Zabini wanted to believe it without question. Wanted to, but could not.

"How about another Muggle saying?" Zabini did not wait for an answer. "Sauce for the goose, then, sir."

Which was obviously not the correct thing to say to Snape. He scowled, his face closing off all emotions, but his black eyes blazed. "If you are too stupid to see what's in front of you, then I do not wish to waste my time discussing it further."

Zabini exhaled slowly. He was surprised that Snape had been willing to discuss it at all. "I understand what you're saying, sir. Intellectually--"

"You have an intellect, Mr. Zabini?" Oh, and his sneer was perfect, even if his lips twitched just a bit. "That is news to me."

Biting back the smile that threatened to escape, Zabini nodded. "I would like to think so, sir."

"I'm not sure I agree." The amusement in Snape's tone belied his words.

The atmosphere lightened just a fraction, and Zabini sighed in relief. "Perhaps this isn't the time to discuss this."

"Perhaps not," Snape met his eyes and nodded. "I would be inclined not to discuss it at all."

"On that we agree completely," Zabini said. It was only at Yuletide that the subject ever came up.

"Good. Then perhaps you should go to bed."

"Are you in that big a hurry to get rid of me?" Zabini laughed softly at the look of consternation on Snape's face. "Truth is, I don't feel like being alone."

Snape looked more uncomfortable, and Zabini could almost see the internal struggle going on, but he eventually said, "Nor I."

"Perhaps I might help you with that." Zabini smiled, his heart rate speeding up. He could not believe his own audacity. There was always the faint hope that Snape wouldn't catch the unspoken invitation.

"I think that would be a very bad idea." Snape's tone sounded more flattered than insulted. Indeed, he seemed to be fighting a smile.

Zabini let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding, and grinned widely. "I know, sir. It could be very awkward."

"These kinds of things never end well," Snape agreed, shifting a little closer to him, but not so much that they were touching yet.

Closing the distance between them, Zabini moved the necessary few inches until his thigh pressed gently against Snape's. "Very true. What would we say to each other in the morning?"

"I could always leave before morning." Turning towards him, Snape raised a hand slowly, giving him time to refuse.

No chance of that.

He pushed Zabini's hair back from his face. "I believe this is a phenomenally bad idea." He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Zabini's, fingers twisting in his hair.

With a sigh of contentment, Zabini let his eyes drift shut. He slipped his tongue into Snape's mouth and explored leisurely, until a familiar taste brought him back to his senses. So that was the reason for Snape's mellow mood. Pulling back a little, he put a hand on Snape's face. "Can you make this decision? I mean..."

"Don't be an arse. I'm perfectly capable of knowing what I want." Snape tried to pull out of his arms, but Zabini wasn't going to let him go.

"I had to ask," Zabini said when he finally got Snape to meet his eyes. "I won't..."

"You should have been a bloody Gryffindor." Snape didn't quite achieve the sneer that Zabini thought he was aiming for.

"I begged the sorting hat to put me in Slytherin."

"You're joking." Snape looked appalled. "Why would you do that?"

"My father had told me he'd disown me should I be sorted into any house other than Slytherin. To this day, I've never been sure whether he was serious or not." His childhood fears had been real enough that the hat had done as he'd asked.

"Ironic, isn't it?" Snape said, his expression thoughtful.

"Given how things turned out, yes, I'd say so." Zabini wished he could find it amusing, or at least make peace with it, but neither seemed to be an option. "You know, I'm not the only one."

"I had heard the rumors about Potter. That he hadn't wanted to be sorted into Sytherin." Snape's tone expressed his opinion of Potter's choice more eloquently than words could.

"He told us the story after he came back intact from some particularly awful mission. It had taken real cunning for him to have survived. Most people wouldn't have."

"That boy has the devil's own luck, I'll say that for him." The dislike in Snape's voice was so clear and sharp. It shocked Zabini.

"Why do you hate him so much, sir? I mean, it's none of my business, of course, but I've always wondered." Zabini had never been close to Potter, but he did like and respect him, both as a person and as a leader.

"You're right. It's absolutely none of your business." Snape's expression closed and he glared at Zabini. "I do not wish to discuss it. Now or ever."

"I'm sorry." Zabini was, for the killed mood as well as for the anger and hurt in Snape's face.

"I should go." Snape started to rise, and Zabini put a hand on his arm.

"Wait. Don't." Zabini smiled at him. "We were going to --"

"We were, weren't we?" Snape looked at him, interest returning. "However, I still think this is a remarkably poor idea."

Relieved, Zabini shifted closer, leaning in to kiss him deeply, slowly, letting his hands move soothingly across Snape's back. As he pulled back, he whispered, "No doubt you are correct, sir."

"We certainly should not be doing this in here." With his arms still around Zabini, Snape drew them to their feet.

"My rooms are closer." Reluctantly, Zabini stepped out of Snape's arms. He held out his hand.

Snape glanced down at his outstretched fingers and then back up into his face. His eyebrow raised and humor in his eyes, Snape took his hand, allowing himself to be led out of the hall.

* * *

Once in his room, he watched Snape take in the decor. Probably not much different from the standard Hogwarts fare. His sitting room had a fireplace, which some did not. Two chairs and a matching sofa of indeterminate origin were ensconced in the long, narrow room, with a large wooden desk he'd taken from the Zabini Manor. It had the family crest carved into the front.

Snape nodded curiously at it. "Why bring it here for only part of the year?"

"I plan to live here year round," Zabini said, and then glanced at Snape. "I understand you do as well."

"I'm not fond of my family home." From Snape's expression, not fond was an understatement.

"I'd sell Zabini Manor if I could. It has far too many bad memories attached to it. I hate the moldering pile of ruin." Zabini shuddered. If he never set foot in the place again, he'd think himself quite lucky.

"I would do the same, were the property not entitled," Snape said. "Some distant relative will end up with it if I die without heirs."

"How likely are you to have them?" Zabini smirked at him, more than a little curious, and more than glad to change the subject to something less dangerous, and more interesting.

His lips twitching, Snape shrugged. "I would not discount the possibility completely, though the means of begetting them holds little interest for me."

"That could be a problem," Zabini answered without so much as a smile to reveal that inwardly he was cheering.

"For you as well?" Tilting his head, Snape smiled, perhaps even knowingly.

 

"I'm not completely averse to the idea," Zabini said, returning the smile this time. "I'd simply rather not."

Snape actually snickered. "I see."

"Can I offer you some tea?" Zabini smiled again at the startled look Snape shot him.

"At 2:30 in the morning? I think not." Snape folded his arms over his chest, seeming suddenly to remember why they were there. "Let's get on with things."

"You make it sound like such an onerous task." Zabini mimicked Snape's movements, crossing his arms dramaticaly. "Making love should be done slowly, savoring each moment." Because those moments came too rarely, in Zabini's opinion.

"Oh, Lord. Don't get sentimental on me." Snape huffed out a long-suffering sigh. "We're going to fuck, nothing more than that."

Zabini couldn't help laughing. "You're worried I'll respect you in the morning, is that it?"

"Don't be an arse," Snape snapped. "And don't make this into more than it is."

"Shut up, Professor."

Snape glared at him. "You could find something else to call me for the duration."

"I'll take that as leave to use Severus."

"Don't get used to it."

"Of course not." Zabini stepped closer, sliding his hand into Snape's hair. It didn't feel as greasy or as dirty as it looked. Twining it around his hand, he gently pulled Snape closer. "You do wash it, don't you?"

"You thought I didn't?" Snape looked mildly affronted.

"We used to take bets on it." He leaned down slightly and kissed Snape again. Snape's mouth opened under his, and he slid his tongue in to taste and then retreat. It felt so good to finally kiss him, to touch him, to hold him. Reveling in the surprising sweetness, Zabini tightened his arms, deepening the kiss.

When they finally drew apart, Snape was breathless. He eyed Zabini questioningly. "Where is your bedroom?"

"There." Zabini pointed to a closed door set in the wall opposite the desk.

As they entered the room, he once again watched Snape take in the details. The bed, a four-poster canopied affair, had the family crest carved into the center of the wooded headboard. It was pretentious, he admitted to himself, but the bed was both large and comfortable.

With a leer in his eyes and his long finger crooked, Snape beckoned him closer. "Blaise..."

Zabini breathed out. The sound of his name, spoken in just that husky tone by Severus Snape, rippled pleasantly along his spine and into his groin.

As soon as he was within striking distance, Snape reached out and began to undo his robes with charming alacrity. He stepped out of his indoor shoes, and toed off his socks. After his shirt hit the floor, Snape stepped back to look at him, his hand trailing slowly down his chest, dropping off before it hit his belt.

His turn.

Moving quickly, Zabini divested Snape of his robes and the rest of his clothes, not stopping until Snape was completely naked. He stepped back, holding Snape at arms length while he looked his fill. Snape stood quiescent under his gaze, not looking away, seemingly neither embarrassed nor arrogant.

Snape's body was pale, and more muscular than he'd imagined, but his skin was marred and puckered with old wounds. Pulling him close, Zabini buried his face in Snape's neck, breathing in deeply, his hands running slowly down his back to cup his arse.

"You feel good," he murmured against Snape's throat, his tongue darting out to taste.

Snape shivered in his arms, pressing back into his hands. "You're still dressed," Snape said, making it sound like an egregious lapse, as if Zabini had done it on purpose to annoy him.

Zabini smiled. "If you don't like it, then I think you should do something about it. Don't you?"

Snape's hands slid between them, opening his belt and zip, pushing his trousers and pants off his hips. Zabini stood before him, trying to stop himself from squirming under Snape's measuring gaze. The wounds that had ended his Auror career had healed to ugly scars, and he felt a moment's fear prickle through him when Snape glanced at them for the first time.

"Lovely." Snape's tone was reverent and his hands gentle as they resumed their explorations of his chest and belly, then moved lower.

Zabini gasped as those fingers made explicit contact. His knees went weak. "We should get into bed. Or we'll end up on the floor."

"A wise suggestion for once," Snape said, removing his hand and then manhandling Zabini across the room and pushing him down onto the bed.

As soon as Snape climbed in and settled beside him, Zabini rolled over, sliding on top of him. He laughed at the startled expression on Snape's face. "What? You thought you were in charge here?"

"I'm older." Snape said it as if that were actually relevant.

"It's my bed." Which was just as relevant, Zabini supposed.

Smirking, Snape tried to roll him over onto his back, but without better leverage he couldn't do it without using force. While they were almost the same height, Zabini was broader and heavier. When he saw that Zabini wouldn't yield immediately, Snape did.

"All right," Snape said, lying back and smirking up at him. "Let me see what you've got, then."

A challenge if ever Zabini had heard one. He smiled broadly. "Enough for you, I promise."

Snape licked his thin lips. "We'll see, won't we?"

"You doubt me?"

"I never believe in anything I haven't seen in action first." Snape's tone was a little too serious for their teasing words, but Zabini let it go. He had other things he wanted to concentrate on. Lowering his head, he brushed his mouth lightly across Snape's. "What do you like?"

Snape considered for a moment, then looked up and met his eyes. "Nothing that hurts."

"God, no." He tangled a hand in Snape's hair and kissed him softly. "What else?"

"Most things that don't fall into the first category. I'll let you know if you bugger it up."

Hoping to do just that, Zabini tilted Snape's face up and kissed him deeply, sliding his tongue in and then out again. Kissing Snape was luxurious, wet, warm, and delicious. Zabini loved to kiss, could spend ages doing just that, but sensing his partner's impatience he reluctantly moved on more quickly than he would have liked to. Too much tempting bare Snape, too much more to taste, to touch, to savor.

He nibbled along Snape's collar bone, down his chest, biting just hard enough that Snape would feel it, but not enough for real pain. The lower he went, the louder the moans became. He liked the sound, delighting in giving pleasure, in taking it. Snape twisted under him as he finally closed his mouth on him, sucking, first softly just to tease, and then harder, making him sweat and swear and groan.

It thrilled Zabini beyond measure to hear Snape cry out in passion, in pleasure that he'd given him. A dream finally come true. He wanted to keep going forever, until they were both so close to the edge that it crumbled under their feet, but Snape would not allow it. His pleas became so ardent, so desperate, Zabini took pity on him, speeding up his rhythm to bring it to a close.

Snape came hard, his legs spread wide, his hands twisted in the duvet, his mouth open on a cry. Sure that he'd never seen a more beautiful sight in his life, Zabini was hard pressed not to come himself, only the promise of better things waiting for him enabling him to hold back.

Before Snape could return completely to consciousness, Zabini rolled him onto his belly and settled between his thighs. Leaning forward, he moved the sweaty black hair out of the way and kissed the back of Snape's neck. Under him, Snape groaned.

As he'd done with Snape's front, he took his time, allowing himself to taste and enjoy each new flavor and texture as he moved inexorably downward towards his goal. Once there, he pressed his tongue in, and felt Snape shudder all around him, moaning loudly. He kept up the slow, wet torture until he had Snape on the brink again. Then he pulled back and sat up.

"*Accio* lubricant." He held out his hand as it came to him.

Snape turned back to glare at him, giving him a disgruntled look that said get on with it as clearly as if he'd spoken.

Using his fingers instead of his tongue this time, he once again had Snape incoherent with pleasure. When he started to lift Snape's hips to position himself, Snape stiffened and turned over abruptly.

"I must see you," Snape said with a slight tremor in his voice and a look of uncertainty that bordered on fear in his eyes.

"All right." Zabini knew that look. He stroked soothingly along Snape's side and across his chest. "Whatever you're comfortable with."

Breathing out with something that sounded a lot like relief, Snape settled again, and spread his legs. "Like this."

For a moment, Zabini hesitated. Glancing down, he saw the eagerness in Snape's expression. He decided he'd have to the man at his word. Stroking his hands down Snape's thighs, Zabini arranged those long legs to suit him, then stilled, waiting for Snape met his eyes. He deliberately held Snape's gaze as he pressed slowly forward, into the heat of his body.

Closing his eyes, Zabini breathed out harshly, fighting the desire to thrust, to take what was on offer without regard for the man offering. Another breath and control returned. He waited.

Below him Snape shifted his hips slightly and then sighed. His body eased its grip, relaxing, letting Zabini slide in.

"Good," Snape said.

Zabini slid the rest of the way in, and stopped again, taking another breath, feeling the sweat start to pool on his body. "God, you feel so good."

With a grunt that could have meant anything, Snape canted his hips forward. "You're not going to just sit there, are you?"

"No." Zabini grinned down at him, a hand snaking forward to push the hair off Snape's face. "I'm just enjoying you."

"Get on with it, Blaise." But Snape's voice had lost its bite and there was something in his eyes that made Zabini smile tenderly down at him.

He pulled out slowly and then eased back in, angling inward. With each stroke, he moved slowly but surely, deepening his thrusts. When he heard the gasp he was waiting for he kept that angle, seeking to give as much pleasure as he took.

Snape groaned, snapping out a string of orders along the lines of "More. Now."

Too soon, Zabini felt the tightening in his gut that signaled his approaching orgasm. He wanted to hold back, to drag it out a bit more, but it had been too long and he was too far gone. Picking up his pace, he slammed into Snape, hearing his cries of pleasure only distantly. Heat and light flared through him, and he cried out himself, burning in the fire of their shared passion.

Sometime later, after his mind became his own again, Zabini pulled away gently. Snape groaned, but didn't move.

"I think you've broken something," Snape said a bit later, his voice harsh with exhaustion and no small amount of satiation.

"Broken or no, I think a wash before you go to sleep wouldn't go amiss." He ran a finger down Snape's back lightly.

Shivering, Snape opened one eye and regarded him with mild disinterest. "My wand is in my robe."

"Which is in the other room, with my wand, incidentally."

"Go get it," Snape ordered, closing his eye and settling further into the bedding. "Now."

Zabini debated whether or not to obey the command. Setting that kind of precedent with Snape probably wasn't a good idea, but he did want to clean up. One way or another he had to move to attain his goal. "Okay. This one time."

"Right." Snape sounded a little too smug for his liking, but doing something about it would take more energy than Zabini had right then. The time would come. Or he hoped it would.

Zabini got out of bed, padding naked into the other room to retrieve both wands. He cast a quick cleaning spell on Snape and lay both wands on the bedside table. Deciding he wanted a proper wash, he went into the bathroom.

Snape was snoring softly by the time he returned. Giving him an indulgent smile, Zabini snuggled down into bed beside him. They'd touched just the tip of the iceberg of all the things Zabini wanted to do. He could only hope Snape had enjoyed himself enough to give it another go. Content, Zabini kissed his lank hair, and fell asleep

\--finis


End file.
